On My Way Towards Something
by Copycat
Summary: Post-ep for 'Run'. Harry had a rough couple of days, Nikki tries to cheer him up. Another missing scene type story.


RATING: K+  
CLASSIFICATION: Nikki/Harry, Friendship  
SPOILERS: Through _Run_, series 13. And James Whale's _Frankenstein_ (which is from 1931, so I'm thinking that's okay).  
SUMMARY: Post-ep for _Run_. Harry had a rough couple of days, Nikki tries to cheer him up. (Another missing scene type story.)  
DISCLAIMER: The BBC owns everything you recognise. And probably some things you don't.

This is for Mira, who waited so patiently for an update on _The Tear Collector_ but didn't get one, even if she already paid for it (lol). Next week, I swear!

David & the Citizens has become my go-to band for fanfic titles it seems. This one is from _On All-American Winds_.

* * *

Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking at the bottle of whiskey on his coffee table and the empty glass sitting next to it.

His eyes strayed to the phone and then back to the golden liquid and he leaned back in the sofa and sighed.

Somehow drinking himself to oblivion didn't seem as appealing as he felt it ought to, but he couldn't stand the thought of being alone with his thoughts all night.

Then, as if he had somehow willed it to do so, the phone rang.

He hesitated, waiting for the second ring to make sure he hadn't just imagined it, and then he answered.

"Hi, Harry, it's Nikki," a familiar voice travelled down the line to him.

He smiled, pleased but not surprised. "Hi. What's up?"

"Well, I was going to watch a film, and I thought since I'd probably just ring you to get you to explain it to me, we might as well watch it together."

The excuse was so flimsy he almost laughed out loud. "Sure," he agreed.

"Really?" She sounded surprised and he knew she hadn't expected it to be this easy. She probably had a whole list of arguments prepared to persuade him to see her.

"No," he said flatly, but her silence made him go on quickly. "My TV is bigger, you come here."

"No problem," Nikki agreed, clearly relieved. "I'll see you in a bit."

Harry had only just put the phone down when there was a knock at the door. He got up, frowning, wondering how to get rid of whoever was there. Their brief conversation made him realise that the only person he really wanted to talk to tonight was Nikki, and whoever was on the other side of the door right now, it wasn't who he needed to see.

He pulled the door open quickly, a preoccupied look on his face, ready to explain that he was working and didn't have time for visitors.

"Hi," Nikki said, smiling softly, her mobile still in her hand.

He grinned, instantly relaxing. "What if I had said I was busy? I could've had one of my girlfriends over."

"To be honest, that possibility hadn't actually occurred to me," she said, grinning back.

She put her mobile away as she walked into his flat and then shrugged off her jacket. He took it from her and hung it on the coat rack. "What are we watching then?"

She handed him the small plastic bag she was carrying and he pulled out the DVD. "Dogville? Are you serious?"

She shrugged. "It seemed like the sort of thing that needs explaining. We can watch something else if you want."

He led the way to the living room and went to look through his collection of films.

She looked at the unopened bottle on the coffee table. "Well, at least Leo will be grateful I came here tonight," she said, half-joking.

"I am, too," he said quietly, his back still on her.

She came to stand next to him, nudging him with her shoulder as she ran a finger along the row of DVDs. "You've gone all soft in your old age," she teased before frowning. "Not that it shows in your DVD collection. There's a serious shortage of romantic comedies here, Harry."

He grinned. "So you want me to get out my secret stash of Meg Ryan films?"

"Oooh, yes please," she enthused, playing along. "Do you have _French Kiss_? I love that one."

He snorted, shaking his head at her. "_Terminator 2_ or _Terminator 3_?"

"The one that isn't about time-travelling robots killing people," she said, her eyebrows raised sceptically.

"Okay, you pick something, then," he said, taking a small step back to watch her as she read the titles of each one of his films and dismissed it.

Finally her frown transformed into a look of interest. "Can we watch this one?" she asked, pulling out a dvd and handing it to him.

He looked at it and laughed. "Frankenstein? Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I saw it when I was at university, but I didn't really..." she trailed off, shrugging.

Harry opened the box and put the DVD in the player, turning on his television as he sat down next to her on the sofa. "Were you drunk?" he asked, and then added suggestively, "or busy doing something else?"

She laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Well, I would _now_," he admitted, grinning.

She picked up the remote control for the DVD player and pressed play, her eyes on the screen, and shifted around in her seat to get comfortable.

He laughed at her pointed attempt to ignore him and put his feet up on the coffee table as Edward Van Sloan stepped out from behind the curtain to warn the viewers about what they were going to see before the opening credits began.

"That is _so_ sexist," Nikki said suddenly, sitting up in outrage and glaring at Harry.

He gaped at her. "What?"

She waved an angry hand at the screen. "From the novel by Mrs. Percy B. Shelley," she read aloud from the credits.

Harry grinned, amused now that he realised it wasn't him she was angry with. "Well, there are people who believe _she_ didn't actually write it."

Nikki rolled her eyes at him, not dignifying that with any other response.

"Did you go and see your mother again?" Nikki asked suddenly about ten minutes later.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, not really wanting to elaborate. In spite of what he had told his mother, how desperate he was to talk about his father, he couldn't actually make himself start the conversation. He couldn't make himself risk her shutting him off.

"And you're okay?" Nikki asked gently, turning around so she was facing him and pulling her legs up under herself.

He crossed his legs on the coffee table, looking at her briefly and then back at the screen. "Yes. I mean... We talked, it was..." He scratched his chin, breathing slowly as he tried to come up with the right words to explain.

"Draining, but freeing?" she suggested.

He looked at her, smiling. "Pretty much."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, and he could tell she wasn't only offering because she felt that she had to. "I don't want to push, but..."

He chuckled. "There's a first," he joked and then frowned as realisation dawned on him. Nikki might not push, exactly, but she _did_ want to talk to him about his father. _He_ was the one who had always tried to avoid having this conversation with _her_, not the other way around.

He was the one who had been scared of what they might both learn from it.

But there was nothing left to learn now. All those things he had somehow forgotten, or convinced himself he had never known, were out in the open, and all he was left with was the consequences.

Nikki raised a hand and put it on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

He took a deep breath. "After the Flanagan inquest, when we were arguing, were you scared that I would hurt you?"

She hesitated, her eyes shifting to the back of the couch behind his head, and he sighed. That was really all the answer he needed.

"Not scared that you would hurt me, as such," she said finally, her words carefully measured. "I was shocked by how angry you were, I suppose that frightened me a little. But I have _never_ been scared of you, Harry," she finished with conviction.

"You looked scared," he told her. "It was just for a moment, but when I close my eyes I see that look of fear on your face. And I know I put it there. I can never--" he stopped, not sure what it was he could never do. Forget that? Ask her to forgive him? Forgive himself?

Her hand moved from his shoulder to his cheek, and she gently but firmly made him face her and look her in the eye. "You didn't hurt me, Harry. You were angry and you shouted, but you didn't hurt me. You would never do that."

"You can't know that," he insisted, his voice shaking.

"Yes, I can," she said firmly.

"How?"

"I know you. I know you would never hurt me."

He could feel the tears threatening to fall and he moved her hand away from his face, wrapping both his own large hands around her small one in his lap. "I'm sure my mum knew the same thing about my dad once."

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I'm not right about _everything_," she said after a short silence.

He laughed darkly.

"You're not your father, Harry. Don't live your life thinking you're going to do exactly what he did, become what he was. You need to take the things you admire about him and leave the rest of it behind."

"That simple, huh?" he joked, half-smiling.

She smiled back, allowing him to end the conversation.

"Now watch," he told her. "They're about to bring the monster to life."

She turned to watch the film, her arm resting against his.

When Frankenstein shouted, half-excited, half-deranged, "It's alive! It's alive!" she giggled softly and he could feel her shaking her head against his shoulder.

"Oh, just wait," Harry warned her. "It's a _criminal_ brain they used, it's going to go terribly wrong. You won't be laughing when the monster goes berserk."

She chuckled at his attempt at copying Doctor Waldman's accent. "I think maybe I will."

She stayed quiet, however, and after a while Harry noticed that she was leaning against him more heavily. When he looked at her he realised that she had fallen asleep. As he watched her, she shifted closer to him and he put his arm around her and let her snuggle into his chest in her sleep.

He turned his attention back on the film, but his eyes kept drifting to Nikki's face, relaxed and content.

She trusted him.

She knew him, knew what he was capable of, and yet here she was, trusting him to keep her safe as she slept easily next to him.

He stroked her hair awkwardly with the arm he had wrapped around her and she sighed softly, snuggling into him. He swallowed, determined not to cry, and kissed the top of her head.

Whatever else he did in his life, he would make himself worthy of the trust she so willingly put in him and he would never let himself hurt her.

The credits rolled over the screen and Harry smiled. It was a wonder Nikki had managed to sleep through the noise of the final scenes.

He stretched, trying to reach the remote control on the coffee table without disturbing her, but it was too far away. He probably could have disentangled himself without waking her, but somehow he couldn't make himself let go of her, so instead he leaned forward slowly, pulling her with him, and grabbed the remote.

He thought he had managed it, but then he felt her shift against him and looked down to see her opening her eyes.

She sat up slowly, wiping her chin self-consciously.

Harry grinned. "I don't need a dog, I've got you to drool all over me."

She hit him lightly in the chest with a fisted hand, but then spread out her fingers and smoothed the fabric of his shirt. The _dry_ fabric of his shirt.

She glared at him, a smile on her lips, and he shrugged.

"Guess I got lucky," he said.

Her smile turned into a laugh and she shook her head at him. "I guess I should be heading home."

He nodded and they both stood up.

He walked her to the door and waited for her to put on her coat before unlocking the door and holding it open for her.

She turned in the doorway to say goodbye, her arms outstretched in invitation.

He hugged her, his eyes closing as she clung to him.

Her grip loosened but he didn't let go of her, and her arms tightened around his waist again.

He wanted to ask her to stay, but he knew that she would get the wrong idea. Not that he was entirely sure what the wrong idea was.

Pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, he finally released her and she pulled back slightly. "Thank you, for tonight," he said, well-aware that the words weren't really adequate.

She shook her head. "Thank you for letting me come over."

"If I had said no, you would've banged down my door, wouldn't you?" he asked, half-teasing, half-grateful.

"Definitely," she assured him with a smile and then yawned. "I'll see you at work tomorrow. Sober and hangover-free."

He laughed. "Definitely," he agreed. "Now go home before you fall asleep right here on the floor."

"I'm sure you would at least drag me to the couch," she said.

"Because you know me so well," he replied.

"Exactly."

"Well, as long as you aren't expecting me to let you have the bed," he joked.

"I have faith in you, but I'm not a fool," she promised. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he answered and she walked out the door, waving briefly as she reached the stairs.

When she had disappeared from view he closed the door and returned to the living room.

The bottle of whiskey was still on the coffee table, untouched, and he left it there and went to bed. As he drifted off to sleep he saw Nikki's face, not frightened as he shouted at her, but peaceful, with a soft smile playing on her lips as she slept in his arms.

_End_


End file.
